


One Of Those Nights

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BA waits to see if tonight will be one of the nights when Hannibal comes to him. He hopes it will be. He really wants it to be one of those nights. He thinks they both need it to be one of those nights.</p>
<p>My first story for this pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Of Those Nights

BA never knows when Hannibal will come to him, nor does he know what will happen when he does. Sometimes things are hard and fast between them, sometimes slow and tender. Sometimes there is nothing but touching, holding, caressing. And sometimes they fight for dominance, and there are bruises and bites and cuts and scrapes.

If Hannibal asked, BA would honestly tell him that he loves it all. He loves the unpredictability of it – time and again he’s tried to figure out a pattern to his colonel’s nocturnal visits and what activities they will bring, but he’s always failed. Some nights he has been convinced the older man will come to him, having caught a glance or a touch that seems to telegraph intent. Usually, he’s been wrong. In this as in the rest of his life, it seems, Hannibal Smith is always unpredictable.

BA has never gone to Hannibal, though he wants to. He always wants to. He longs to desperately, some nights, but he would never do that to his colonel. He knows the older man is burdened by concerns about command and responsibility and fraternisation, knows that even after all these years Hannibal won’t let himself relax even a fraction.

BA doesn’t give a shit about any of that. Not as if they’re still in the Army, after all.

He doesn’t think Hannibal will come tonight, though he knows they could both use a good, cleansing fuck after the job from hell they barely staggered away from. BA has been lying in bed for an hour now, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. If Hannibal isn’t coming, he might have to take matters into his own hands, pun intended. No other way he can see himself finding any rest tonight, his thoughts churning over and over.

But then, he comes. Silent as always, only the light filtering through from the hallway betrays Hannibal’s entry into the room as the door opens and closes once more. “You awake?” the colonel whispers, though BA is sure the older man already knows the answer.

“Yeah,” he replies, sitting up, sheets pooling around his waist. He’s naked beneath them, of course. Just in case. “They okay?”

“Murdock finally ran out of adrenaline and crashed into bed.” Hannibal is stripping as he crosses the room to the bedside, folding his shirt and vest and jeans out of habit. BA relishes the sight of all that long, lean, toned muscle as it is revealed in the dim light of the room. “Face is sleeping again, but he was still… confused when I spoke to him last. I’ll wake him again in another hour, and if he’s no better…”

“Gotcha.” Might be time for a hospital trip, the first for a while. Face had been unconscious for nearly an hour, those baby blue eyes unfocussed when he finally woke. BA had half-expected their colonel to stay and keep watch over their wounded XO. “You okay, boss?”

A long pause. Hannibal is naked now, and BA swallows hard as he sees the older man is already half-hard. His own cock gives a ferocious twitch beneath the sheets, even as his concern for his friends threatens to dampen the need for the two of them to reconnect. “I’m fine, considering,” Hannibal eventually says, standing stock still by the side of the bed. Silence falls again, and then BA realises.

“I know what you need.” He throws back the sheets, taking Hannibal’s hand and tugging him down onto the bed beside him. The older man comes willingly, letting BA turn him onto his stomach, offering no resistance when he is pushed down into the mattress. “Let me take your mind off it all, boss. Let me…”

Hannibal pushes back then, only far enough to climb to his hands and knees, letting his head hang low, and BA goes to work in silence. He peppers Hannibal’s long back with kisses, his hands roaming over the colonel’s flanks, down to strong thighs and firm buttocks. Leaning away for a second, he rummages one-handed in the bedside drawer as he searches for the lube. He should have been prepared for this. He should have been prepared for the unexpected.

It isn’t often like this between them, and despite the hellish day and the worry over Face, BA smiles into the darkness as he slips first one finger then two into Hannibal’s waiting entrance. He loves the times when his lover – and Hannibal is his lover at this moment, not his colonel nor his friend – needs this from him. Needs not to be the one in charge for a while. Needs BA to take control. 

And BA can do that. 

He takes his time prepping the older man, knowing it’s been a few weeks since he’s been on the bottom. Three weeks and two days, his mind pipes up helpfully, before Hannibal’s sudden groan drives all other thoughts from BA’s mind. He twists his fingers again, teasing his lover’s prostate, and those deep moans go straight to his groin. His cock is hard and heavy, his groin aching with anticipation, and he reaches his free hand between Hannibal’s legs to find the colonel also hard and throbbing.

“You ready for this, boss?” he manages to ask, leaning forward over that long back until he can kiss at Hannibal’s neck, licking over the pulse he can feel racing beneath his tongue. “You ready for me?”

“Yes, God, yes, please… Now…” Hannibal’s voice is strained, needy. Deep, so very deep. 

Which is where BA needs to be right now. 

Carefully removing his probing fingers, loving the little whimper that slips from Hannibal’s lips at the loss, he lines up and presses the head of his cock against that ready and waiting hole. He wraps his hands around Hannibal’s hips and pushes, ever so slightly. Teasing that pucker, loving the deeper growl that gets him.

“I gotcha, Hannibal. I got what you need.” And he drives in, slowly, steadily, tightening his hold on his lover’s hips when the older man tries to push backwards, trying to impale himself on BA’s erection. 

A slow drive, endless, and BA watches in the dim light as his cock is gradually buried in the burning heat of his colonel’s body, amazed every time at the incredible tightness. He can’t keep back a groan of pleasure as his hips finally bump against Hannibal’s firm ass cheeks, and his lover gasps a little laugh at the same time. 

For a long moment they stay there, just like that, neither of them moving, both of them breathing hard. Both of them struggling for control. BA knew he was close, the intensity of this position always something so special for him with this powerful man in front of him. Squeezing his eyes closed, tightening his hands again on Hannibal’s hips – there will be bruises later, he can tell – he tries to take a few slow breaths. Tries to focus.

Hannibal, it seems, has other ideas though. “Move, BA,” he hisses, throwing an unreadable glance over his shoulder. A wide grin splits his face for a brief second. “Damn it, man. Move. Please.”

That magic word breaks the last thread of BA’s control. He can never refuse an order from this man, would never dream of disobeying, and so he starts to move. No more slow and steady, not tonight. Tonight they both need more. They need to feel, to forget, and he starts up a punishing pace which he hopes he can keep up for as long as it takes. As long as Hannibal needs. 

“You like that?” he gasps as Hannibal moans, and in response the other man drops forwards to his elbows in one smooth move. BA’s turn to moan then as the change in angle suddenly lets him drive even deeper into that welcoming heat, and he snaps his hips faster and faster, pounding Hannibal’s ass and chasing his own orgasm now. He’s close. So close.

“There!” Hannibal suddenly cries, and BA knows he’s hit his colonel’s prostate. He slaps away Hannibal’s hand when the other man reaches down for his own cock, hanging heavy and so far ignored between his legs. He’s determined to make his lover come just like this. “BA, there, right there, oh – ”

It doesn’t take much more, not now BA has that perfect angle, and three thrusts later Hannibal’s powerful body locks up and shudders, his cock spurting his release into the sheets below as his muscles tremble and shake. Another two thrusts and BA is following him, hips stuttering and rhythm falling apart as he sends his own release deep into the willing body in front of him, collapsing forwards and biting hard into the meat of Hannibal’s shoulder to stop his cries of sheer pleasure. There are other men in the house, after all, one of them wounded.

BA doesn’t black out, not quite. But he’s close, and he isn’t sure how long he is draped over Hannibal’s strong back before he comes back to himself. Carefully he pulls back, both of them moaning softly at the loss as BA slips from Hannibal’s body. Lowering himself to the bed, he tugs and pulls at his lover’s long limbs until Hannibal is close by his side, that silver head resting on BA’s chest, one big hand resting on his stomach. 

“Better?” he asks quietly, when their breathing has calmed and settled, when Hannibal’s racing heart has slowed to the steady and reassuring thump BA loves to listen to when he is the one being held like this.

“Better,” Hannibal agrees, and BA can hear the smile in his lover’s voice. He smiles himself, finally feeling as if sleep is within his reach, his body sated and his mind wiped clean of every worry and self-doubt from the day. “So much better.”

They lie together in the darkness of the room, two strong men twined together and finding some semblance of peace. Suddenly, BA feels the urge to say it, as he often does after one of their more tender evenings together. But neither of them has said it, not yet, though he thinks Hannibal feels it too. BA won’t be the first one to say those three words. He won’t do that to his colonel, just in case he’s wrong and this thing between them is nothing more than convenience for the older man.

At that moment, Hannibal presses a burning kiss to BA’s collarbone, and he knows in his gut that this is more than convenience for both of them. 

Straining his neck down, he manages to press a kiss of his own to his lover’s close-cropped hair. “Good,” he whispers, and Hannibal’s answering chuckle rumbles through his own chest.

Silence grows, and BA wonders in his exhaustion if tonight will be one of the nights when Hannibal stays with him. Sometimes they sleep locked together in each other’s arms, or one spooned around the other. Other times, his colonel slips away when BA falls asleep, gone before the dawn. BA always falls asleep first.

But when they come, the colonel’s words are not what BA expected. He’d forgotten, for those few blissful minutes with Hannibal’s heavy and relaxed weight in his arms, about the other half of their team. “I should go check on Face,” Hannibal whispers into the night, and BA can’t find the strength to do anything more than nod in response. The colonel is right, he knows, but still his arms tighten almost unconsciously around his lover. Wanting just another minute. Just for them. 

Hannibal sits up, though, shaking off his clinging arms as if they were nothing. In the faint light of the room, BA can see the glint in the other man’s beautiful blue-grey eyes – he’d never say that to his colonel’s face, but they are beautiful eyes, far more beautiful than Face’s in BA’s opinion. Hannibal leans down to him and they kiss, slowly at first but then with more heat, Hannibal taking charge this time and dominating the kiss effortlessly. 

Just as BA can feel his spent cock beginning to reawaken, Hannibal pulls back and away, up and off the bed in seconds, pulling his clothes back on once more. No effort made to clean up, and BA feels there is something primal and deeply erotic about watching his lover slide back into his boxers with his hole still obviously stretched, and BA’s own semen seeping slowly down his thighs.

No way to say that, though, so he just watches. And it might just be his imagination, but Hannibal seems to put on a little bit of a show for him, flexing his muscles and wriggling his hips as he pulls up his jeans. 

Top button of said jeans still undone, shirt in hand but still bare chested, Hannibal pads silently across to the door, where he pauses. As BA fights to keep his eyes open, the colonel smiles softly at him. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispers, and it’s both question and promise.

“I’ll be waiting,” BA replies, but his lover is gone.


End file.
